A Devilish Shade of Midnight Blue
by Pragmatism
Summary: The fiery soul of Asha Sarin makes itself known to the hungering intentions of Ciel Phantomhive, weaving itself into a contract with the demonic earl for the eradication of those responsible for the killing of her family, and causing the claws of murder and intrigue to start spreading out in front of the young woman and her new personal guard dog. :Black Butler:
1. Chapter 1: The Spice of Life

**Chapter 1: The Spice of Life**

 _I do not own_ _Kuroshitsuji nor any of it's original characters/locations._

 _~This writing includes spoilers from Black Butler 2~_

His butler's strides were long and graceful approaches to the long clothed table, his legs thin black branches on which the crow walked as a man. Upon the black-clad man's hand rested a large silver plate, the top of which held a tea pot and a matching fragile china tea cup, both designed with an intricate gold and blue floral pattern. The boy, dressed in a black as dark as his butler's, looked up from his morning paper, obviously bored of the trite topics depicted in it's reading. The noble child looked across the long expanse of white table at his servant as the occupied tray was brought closer. The silver serving plate was gently put down in front of the young master, and the tea pot's steaming contents poured into the beautiful tea cup. The rim of the china container was brought up to the master's mouth by his own pale fingers, when his waiting butler began to speak. "Today, sir, I have prepared for you a blend of Alexandria and Gregory Wellming, complimented by a dash of bloodied chai for a spice to their otherwise robustly calm taste", informed the tall and red-eyed servant. "Hmph, they were a rather bland couple. Request and wishes simple. I hope the chai is spicier than their ambitions", commented the black-clad earl. A sip was taken from the tea cup, causing it to be placed down in favor of the newspaper once again. "My lord, today your schedule is comprised of an appoint with a Marcellus Yemson whom wishes to acquire a contract, as well as a woman wh-", started the black butler, only to be cut off by his disinterested master, one who now clicked his darkened fingernails against the table rhythmically. "No, clear the schedule Sebastian. I am done with bland souls and sustenance that cannot hold a candle to chai.", he interrupted. "We will search for a spiced soul today, I've particularly missed the taste of curry", commanded Ciel, his steely blue gaze giving way to a commanding, supernaturally red stare towards his surprised servant. Yet, a small smile appeared on the dashing Sebastian as he responded, "I would never expect my master to put up with the least for long", the butler commented. "You know the correct answer, Michaelis", rebuked the young master as he spilt the rest of his drink on the floor.

"Yes, my lord".

"From what you told Prince Soma in your past life, master, I heard that you were not actually fond of spicy tastes. It's surprising that you would seek such out now", commented Sebastian as he closed the large door of the Phantomhive estate behind his young master. "Tastes are subject to change, of course. Such as décor", responded the glancing Ciel, his gaze wandering to his pure black mansion shortly after having danced on Sebastian's pale features. No longer were the walls of his mansion generous blues and beiges, but now blacks and subtle hints of dark, dark crimson. The earl had once thought that the color combination may have come off as depressing or disgusting in the palace's appearance, but Sebastian had done a splendid job as decorator, making the colors ooze with authority and uniformity instead of blotchy weakness. It was a good use of this abandoned residence anyways, for, indeed, the now dead and devoured noble William Terring did not now have need of his mansion. 'That man most definitely had good taste in architecture', thought the Phantomhive master as he stared at the intricate marble pillars holding up his manor, 'But that was about the only thing that was tasteful about him'. The young master swallowed spit as if to remove a dissatisfying taste out of his mouth, and then started to lead Sebastian in search of a carriage.

London's streets were packed this fall morning, especially near the gritty ghettos. Horses and their human burdens clogged the narrow English streets, with a horrible smell arising from the beast's sweaty bodies. "I wonder what the fuss is all about", said the earl, his eyes closed as if to will away the sounds and smells of busy England. "I have heard there was to be a public hanging for a supposed murderer, a Marcellus Yemson", responded the equally bored Sebastian. The Phantomhive head gazed out the window until the slow moving traffic hauled the group to the start of the Indian ghetto, a section of London that hosted poor brick buildings and air. "Oh well. Carriage driver, let us go here. We're close enough", commanded the young master as he started to step out of the brightly painted transport. Sebastian followed suit, handing payment to the driver and then stepping behind his master. "Sebastian, go examine the lot of people around the hanging. Perhaps eat the murderer's soul while you're at it, I don't care", ordered the black earl. "But do keep the tastiest morsel for me, if need be". Sebastian, nodding and placing his right hand upon his chest, jumped away to his destination with dashing efficiency, leaving the steely Ciel within the ghetto's reaches alone. The richly dressed earl walked, cane first, towards a large alley that cut its way deep into the ghetto. If Ciel remembered correctly, was this not the place that he first met prince Soma? A curry lover enticing a curry lover, he supposed.

Such ghettos were filthy; it was a place that always breed criminals and shady characters, was infected by racism, and, in short, was the garden of Eden to a demon. Ciel licked his lips as he trotted proudly through this low community's alleyways, beginning to approach a large gathering of Indians. Yet, the proud shape started to shrink, the pale skin turning darker, and his clothes become filthy. His eyes turned a shade of brown from their normal blue, and there the earl was, in the illusionary disguise as an Indian child. No one had noticed, as the earl intended. The soft patter of his childish feet pounced towards the marketplace in the middle of this gross ghetto. There, fabrics, tarps, and spices were being sold feverously. Old women sold off their recipes and ingredients, men their knives, and almost everyone bought these commodities. As he wondered throughout, his big, brown doe eyes innocent to the world, he found a host of characters. This hive of infection also breed those of kindly mothers, large burly laughing fishers, and beautiful dancing young maidens. But no one person intrigued the demonic earl tastes. Yet, spice hung heavily in the air, and then it struck Ciel. A physical body, not an ideal, had bombarded the earl at that moment. She was a skinny Indian girl, clad in tattered clothing and holding a large, ornamental box under her arm. Her face was clouded by her wealth of black straight hair, that of which had been pulled up into a makeshift ponytail. She yelled at Ciel as she trampled over him, saying, "Sorry kid!". Yet, none of her features attracted the young master more than her scent. Spice, of all kinds, rich with herbs and almost stinging to the nose. She was glorified in rich scent and flavor. Ciel was stunned by her richness, and almost forgot to take after her. A hulking man, tanned and hairy, bolted after the agile thief as well. Such a giant man cussed as, halfway through the chase, his breath gave out, whilst Ciel's ambitious pattering never halted. Bolting around crates, other children, and horses became a regular activity in this chase, with neither the earl nor the girl letting up.

Around the sharp corner of a storefront, the stamina wealthy thief ran into yet another pedestrian, causing the man and her to both cuss and turn around. While the man merely tore away from the girl and walked away, the black-haired Indian woman saw the sprinting child now behind her and was surprised if anything. From her expression, she had obviously thought that the fat man from before had taken this long journey behind her, but Ciel was the only one standing. "W-what the hell, I thought I toppled you back there, kid, what are you doing following me?", she said, standing there hiding the box blatantly behind her back. It seemed everything this woman did was unplanned and quite instinctive. "I guess you could say I have a _hell_ of stamina", responded Ciel in his boyish voice. "and plus, I want some of that box". "Huh? No-can-do kid, I got this fair and square", countered Ciel's target. "Go back to your mom and dad, why don't ya".

"Can't"

"Why?"

"Because they're… they're dead"

At this last awkward sentence, the woman seemed to be stricken. She looked now pitifully on the demon in disguise, his large, innocent eyes and expression swaying her even more.

"So now you're trying to get a room and board too?"

"I guess so", responded Ciel, his ignorance utterly irresistible.

After a long pause, the Indian spoke. "Damn, I suppose you got me kid. Come on, I'll let you sleep at my place for tonight, but you don't touch the box, alright?", bargained the young woman.

"I guess so"

"My name's Asha, yours?"

"Ciel"

"That's quite an English name, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so"

Asha's crumbling house was merely a shack under a bridge. It was secluded, quiet, and undetectable; something she absolutely wanted in her thieving lifestyle. Tarps and rugs were hung from the walls to insulate the house in the brisk fall, but still a draft floated cruelly about. Dark had fallen over the ghettos when Asha finally started to settle her skinny body into bed with her box, keeping it closed and locked as precautions against Ciel. Her bed was merely a small tattered mattress, devoid of proper sheets with instead a large red rug taking their place. Ciel's sleeping place was simply the Windowsill. It took a while, but the exhausted Indian woman finally settled down into natural sleep, giving the small boy time to gander. Around this minuscule shack was racks of books, giving the impression that this young girl was indeed literate, for indeed did she harbor many novels. They ranged among many topics; cooking, historical war, politics, but most interestingly of all was a book on demonology that the Indian harbored among the clutter of literature. It was most definitely accurate as far as the demon could tell, and he took it upon himself for a more thorough read.

* * *

Asha was engulfed in flames, surrounded by red, and only saw in flashes. A burning town, a burning people, a burning. She gasped for air in the town square, but only the blackness of smoke filled the small Asha's precious lungs. Oh, how it was to see the world burning when the flames were only before your eyes. The young girl kept to tearing through the flames, but a cruel and taunting mistress was fire. Had they deserved their punishment? No, and the unfairness boiled up inside Asha like a blaze. She breathed heavily at the red ground, the smoke puffing out of her burning lips, and the soil responded.

"I thought so"

* * *

Asha was startled awake by this phrase, that of which had been called out by a black-clad boy at the windowsill. "I'm glad I found you before you found me, it makes things quicker", Ciel continued. Asha, glaring down to her hands, found her stolen goods replaced by one of her books on demonology. The box, it's outsides still blue and brandished by a Phantomhive seal, laid unopen in the boy's hand instead of her's. "W-what? Who-o are you? where's Ciel?", stuttered the distraught Asha, her facing turning intensely pale. "Please. You explained it in your writing, Asha", answered the smirking earl. The young woman, slowly peering at the opened book in front of her, read her written notes to self that she had concocted a month earlier. The page introduced and explained demonic contracts and their laws, but was blemished by ink scribbles saying such things as "Where? The occult?", "When?", and "With who?" in a fashion that was frantically blotched onto the yellow paper. "You have had a familiar story. You're desperate, in a pit that's sinking frequently, correct?", questioned the dark earl. Asha responded to such an inquiry with only a weak shaking 'no' of her head, her tangled black hair only adding to her distressed manner. "The pit started with fiery hell and you want it to end with such. But you miss one thing; to drag them down into it, and you keep sinking hoping you will once do" continued Ciel. "So, what is it; climb the devil's string or pull them down with it?"

This last cold phrase caught the pale Asha, and brought her back into reality. Her hair, matted horribly by sleep, was swept up into a quick ponytail as she responded. "So, you're a demon?", she questioned back to the waiting Phantomhive master. "I knew you were bright enough", he complimented the now standing young Indian. "And now? The contract?", furthered the red-eyed boy, his pupils peering into the tough flesh of Asha. "You will serve me until their deaths, then you may have it", she answered. The grinning young master held his pale hand out to greet Asha's, with the shaking of their hands burning a symbol of demonic contract into both of their palms. The box fell from the window sill, an exquisite white feather pen falling out of the blue box's inside and rapidly becoming a sinister black before the two.

 **"Yes, my mistress"**


	2. Chapter 2: Outcomes

**Chapter 2: Outcomes**

 _I do not own_ _Kuroshitsuji nor any of its original characters/locations._

 _~This writing includes spoilers from Black Butler 2~_

The morning grazed England once again and brought Sebastian walking to the long white dining table. On his gloved hand was perched the silver dish, occupying the tea pot and cup once again, but today a new set of soft lips would touch its flowery ceramic. There sat the messy Asha, her hair held in a loose bun and her clothes no better than the night she was swept up by Ciel. Sebastian, seeing her unattended appearance, put the china down gently and spoke. "Mistress, did you not receive the clothes that I deposited at your doorstep?", the tall pale butler questioned. "Yeah, I got them", responded the ragged Indian as she orally trimmed her dirt-ridden nails. "I apologize if they were not to your liking, I will prepare you another pair", regretted the butler. Sebastian continued his duties and began to pour a cup of martial Earl Grey tea out of the steaming tea pot, that of which was brought up to the new mistress's mouth by her own slender, tan fingers. "Berinag", she informed, prompting a questioning "Hm?" from the black butler in front of her. "Please get me some Berinag tea instead. I'm not a fan of grey", the countess elaborated. "Of course, right away", answered Sebastian, picking up the fragile cup and placing it back onto the shining silver plate. "Today, my mistress, your activities include-", started the slender Sebastian, only to be cut off by his interrupting master. "I will tell her, Sebastian. Go prepare the clothes and tea", the black-clad earl commanded. With a nod, the slender black servant started off and Ciel approached the table in Sebastian's place, his cane always forwarding his movements. "Surprising to see you unprepared, I thought you to be up and excited for today", commented the steely earl, taking a seat by his mistress at the long white table and producing an almost kind blue glare at her. "I merely like to savor the moment, Ciel", Asha explained, crossing her legs and politely facing the earl in the process. "Today, your schedule consists of a short ride aboard ship to a destination that will bring us closer to the murderers", informed Ciel, prompting a nod from the Indian and the continuation of her nail biting. The tea was soon brought and consumed, and the mistress agreed to put on the original set of clothing. The group was out by one o'clock.

The ship, waiting patiently at the docks and manned by only about twenty men, was privately contracted by the Phantomhives. It was a medium vessel, but could easily accommodate the trinity with a comfortable private cabin and the likes. Asha, hauling her large pink skirt over the ramp and onto the deck with some difficulty, was the first to board the boat. From her impressions, she seemed to enjoy the sea air and atmosphere upon the boat, it's form starting to slowly depart from England's famous harbor and drift out to sea. "Well, might you tell me where this destination is, Ciel? I think I deserve an answer after hauling this heavy dress on board at your suggestion", prodded Asha suddenly. "India", the earl quickly acknowledged. Asha's smiling features suddenly became grave. "I-India? How the hell are we to get to India quickly?", she exclaimed. "The voyage will be short, no worry. Sebastian will occupy you with study in the ship's cabins to pass the time", the black-clad Ciel explained. The argument became stagnant for a moment, but was then broken up by the Indian mistress. "Pfft, sure. Do your demon magic, whatever", she conceded, turning away from the railing of the boat to call out for Sebastian. Ciel was surprised by this answer, Asha's ambitions to be predictive of her demon servant catching him off guard. Yet, he assumed this was just the great spice of her character. As the Indian countess and her dashing black butler disappeared into the lower cabins, Ciel looked out into the azure sea, a body of water that mimicked his eye color perfectly. The earl licked his lips as the waters started to shift, and land drew nearer through the sea's tug.

A startled sailor suddenly opened the cabin door, a husky, wide-eyed man saying that, "We're… w-we're here". Sebastian, closing his book on British politics, helped his Indian Mistress up and out of the lower level cabin and back into the brisk, salty sea air. All of the sailors seemed to be amazed and/or puzzled at the sudden appearance of the continent before them, some even just stood dumbstruck on the ship's frontal deck, facing India in its spontaneous glory. The earl, countess, and butler quietly faced their destination as well, until the ship was pulled into port. India's port was bounds more lively then that of England, the hustle and bustle almost clogging the air with voices, sounds, and smells. While Asha, obviously native to this kind of crowded life, swept through the crowd with ease, Ciel and Sebastian were taken aback, particularly the now tripping earl. The two, dire to find their Indian mistress, came into a clearing in the crowd and found Asha standing with a sly smirk on her face. "Is India to much for you English chaps?", she teased. A downcast look came from both of their servants at this mention. "It would have been less crowded if we had gone under nightfall. You didn't really have to keep me in that fancy mansion to sleep", Asha critiqued once again. "No, we merely wanted you to become well acquainted with the house", countered Ciel, his mouth starting to imitate his mistress's sly smile. "Why? I'm not going to ever see it again… Wait, I swear if you…"

Just as Asha had predicted, there was the large black mansion perched atop a large hill in the outskirts of the port city. It looked as if it had never been disturbed from it's sleep in England, with it's greenery, landscaping, and cobble road all perfectly intact. Sebastian informed Asha that he had moved the mansion for his mistress's leisure, and kept everything the same so that her preliminary acquaintance with it would not be in vain. As well, she was informed that there was "A new roster of servants, so as the large estate to not feel empty to her". The latest attendants stood in front of the mansion, and enthusiastically waved at their new mistress as her carriage pulled up. There stood the form of a large, burly Indian man, a small and fragile Indian maid, a feisty, red-haired English man, and a tall, pale, and slender female butler. All were happy to see Asha exit her carriage. Sebastian started the introductions, proclaiming the hulk of a man to be Rohan Malik, the cook of the estate, the small girl as Nishi Chopra, the maid, Jasper Heltin, the gardener/electrician, and finally Harriet Greelming, assistant butler. The large group of servants filed into the mansion, with their two masters at the group's front (Rohan almost sqaushing the mistress with his titan feet, prompting a sincere apology from the gentle giant). Indeed, the palace felt much more occupied with more attendants, which pleased the Indian mistress. Yet, she could not wallow in this privileged feeling for much longer, neither could any of her other servants. Soon, the mistress and her servants were rushed to their stations in the estate, all preparing for tonight's visitor. "Yes, tonight we will be meeting with Gregory Iklen and his wife to discuss negotiations on how to integrate the Phantomhive line of sweets into the palate of India", answered Ciel to his mistress's puzzlement. "and his connections with a certain British officer", the black earl added, his signature sly smile popping up from his pale face. "Well, won't this be a full evening", Asha commented, picking up her dress and starting her way upstairs.

Gregory Iklen, a tall and dashing English man with a moustache that was evidently his pride and joy, sat by his equally tall wife at the long white table. Matilde, Gregory's spouse, was clad in a purple dress, complimenting the green of her counterpart. They were a polite couple, making suitable banter, thus all around boring. The most interesting thing either one of them said was "Where is the earl?", a question which evoked the response that the Phantomhive master was out on business, leaving the mistress to talk. Yet, such a mistress persevered, making sure to keep her head up straight in the face of their trite conversations. Soon, dinner was brought to the table, a dish of curry served by the maid who could barely look over the clothed table, and the two party's negotiations could begin. "We are wishing to bring the Phantomhive brand of goods to the Indian people, as we believe them to be a culture that would benefit us with their distinct views and critiques", Asha started, sipping her wine and tasting the bowled curry. The cook was new, yet he did a satisfactory job. The conference continued with such curry scenting the air, Asha evoking responses and information from the Iklens among the topics of India's consumers, trade, demographic, etc. Sebastian poured his mistress a second cup of wine as the discussions turned to India's history. "Yes, we at Phantomhive dearly want to deal with India's history, as it most definitely has shaped its people. We want to delve into the good and the bad, for if you look at the introduction of British trade into India, you mustn't sweep the Indian revolution under the table, right?", Asha started.

And that's exactly where the absent earl was, swept under the table. He was here not of his free will, no, but ordered by his mistress. It was a blasphemous request when she first told him, an absurd demand that he would have denied if not for his soul binding contract. So he sat there, breathing little, if at all, and waiting for his purpose; for, as the mistress had said, "You'll see why you're under the table soon enough". Ciel, sitting cross legged under the large white table, waited for his purpose, the likes of which reared its head almost an hour in. It came in the form of a gun, pulled from under Matilda's skirt. The purple ruffled away from the cold steel, and there it sat, pointing at his mistress's stomach from across the elongated table. Here was the great evidence of his mistress's predictions, a woman one step ahead of all in a world ripe with murder and conspiracy. No doubt did it keep her alive in the alleyways of London, but it did so here as well. Ciel's purpose was to carry out her predictions, mercilessly. This is why he initiated a contract. A muttering of dialogue came from Gregory's wife as she pulled the weapon out slowly, something along the lines of "I really did wish to meet lord Ciel, my questions for him included how he faked his death… if the rumors are true". The gun was shot off, indeed, but the bullet never left the chamber. Ciel's hand, clamped over the muzzle of the gritty pistol, blocked such a deadly blow from his mistress. He rose from underneath the table, tearing the ballistic arm from Matilda's grasp and greeting her terrified features with the calm of his. "The rumors are true, aren't they?", he greeted the stunned noble, the gun swiftly brought up and pressed against her temple. Neither of the two Iklens gave any resistance, completely shocked at the turn of events, an outcome they never could have predicted. "Sebastian, take the hostages into the basement, I have a plethora of questions for the Iklens. Give them… Phantomhive's hospitality, if you will", Asha commanded, a cool glare coming from her usually warm, brown eyes.

 **"Yes, my mistress"**


End file.
